


Musings of a Father

by rthecynic



Series: Musketeer Musings [2]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: 2nd person POV, Athos is worried that his son doesn't need him anymore, another shameless self indulgent fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-04 12:37:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17304773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rthecynic/pseuds/rthecynic
Summary: 2nd part of a series of musings - Athos is concerned that D'Artagnan will soon surpass him in skill and won't need him anymore. D'Artagnan disagrees.Gift fic for my very own D'Artagnan





	Musings of a Father

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Canaanation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canaanation/gifts).



You watch him train, stone so cool against your back where you lean against the wall that you can even feel it through the leather of your jacket. He’s improving. In fact, he’s probably the fastest learner you’ve ever seen in your years of service as a Musketeer. He certainly seems to have some kind of innate ability with the sword. But right now, he is training with the pistol. His accuracy is much better than it once was, but you can’t really be surprised. Not with Aramis as his tutor. And with Porthos teaching him hand-to-hand combat, you know he has the best team of instructors he could ever wish for.

And yet, something tugs at your heart. The farm boy from Gascony is something special; there’s no doubt about that. For now, you are his mentor, his protector. He has latched onto you during his time here, and you have loved him as you would have loved your own blood. 

But he is learning and he is improving, and he will soon surpass you. Soon, he will no longer need you. It is no secret that he has the potential to become the best the garrison has ever seen, and you have no doubt that he will fulfil that destiny. 

It’s not that you envy him. In fact, you want nothing more than for this young man to go on to prove to everyone how wrong they were about him. You only wish that there could be a place for you in that life.

You are not his father. You have never wanted to be. He clearly adores the man who raised him, and you are glad for it. You would never want to replace that. But you cannot deny the affection you feel for him, nor can you rid yourself of it. You’re not sure that you want to. This boy has given you something to live for, after so much time spent in your own despair. 

You never had the chance to have a son. Why should fate be so kind to you now? D’Artagnan will never see you as anything more than a means to an end. Why should he? You are nothing. You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve love and friendship and family; not after what you did. 

You still wouldn’t trade him for the world. This time spent together has given you new life; even if only briefly. You have protected him on his journey, and soon it will be time for him to spread his wings and fly.

And you are proud of him.

You feel the corners of your lips curl up in a smile that doesn’t quite belie the sadness in your eyes, and you retreat. Your heart aches too much. Some peace and quiet and the comfort found in the bottom of a bottle; that is what you need right now. So you retreat to your rooms, reach under the bed. Only one bottle of ale remains, but it will do.

Sat on the edge of your bed, you tilt the bottle back, nose wrinkling as the bitter liquid touches your tongue. But you don’t stop. At least, not until you hear the soft noise of someone speaking your name.

“Athos…?”

You turn, and he is standing there in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the doorframe. He isn’t smiling. In fact, he looks… concerned. It really isn’t like him.

“What’s wrong, D’Artagnan?” you ask, tipping the bottle back once more as he steps into the room.

“I think it is I who should be asking you,” he retorts, grabbing your wrist and holding it tight, prising the bottle from your tense grip. “Something hasn’t been right with you recently. Won’t you tell me what it is…?”

You smile at him. You don’t think it seems very genuine, but you have to try. You don’t like seeing that look in his eyes.

“It’s nothing, lad. Come, share some ale with me. Your training seems to be coming along well.”

“Thanks to you and Porthos and Aramis,” he tells you, somewhat hesitantly. You hardly notice. You’re too busy letting out a soft snort.

“You are too modest, D’Artagnan. Soon you will surpass us and have no need of us at all!”

He seems stunned by that, just staring at you for a moment. Then understanding seems to dawn in his eyes and he lets out a soft sigh.

“Athos…”

You hold up a hand. You don’t want to hear it. Your heart is already breaking. You don’t need him to see it shatter.

“I’m proud of you. The best of us all, they call you. Everyone knows it. Well done, lad.”

“Athos…!”

There is something urgent in his voice now. He is on his knees beside you, arms around you, head against your chest. Your arms come up to hold him, almost without your knowledge. He is trembling. You suddenly remember just how young he is. You try to speak, but he cuts you off.

“Don’t say such things! You are my family, and I will always need you! Please don’t leave me alone in the world again…!”

The words shock you. You had never stopped to think about how lonely he must be; a kindred spirit to your own feelings of isolation. He has been brought to you to save you from yourself, but you never considered that you may have been sent to him too.

“I cannot replace what you have lost…” you start to say, but he just shakes his head.

“I’m not asking you to! But just because I am not your blood does not mean that I care for you any less. And that affection is not based on what you can teach me. Please, Athos… Do not cast me aside…!”

Your arms tighten around him; this boy who has somehow found his way into your heart. Your heart still aches, yet it aches for him. For letting him think for even a moment that you would ever be the one to abandon him.

“I’m not going anywhere…” you whisper to him as he weeps against your chest. “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, just some more self-indulgent Athos and D'Artagnan relationship insight! Honestly, I just really love getting into Athos' head and I might just keep posting these sorts of things for anyone who's interested!
> 
> I wrote this one very much based on a conversation between Athos and D'Artagnan in a roleplay that I'm doing, so this fic kinda goes out to her! <3  
> I might also do another chapter from D'Artagnan's POV, but I'm not quite sure yet ^-^"
> 
> You can find me at capitaineathos on tumblr, or on my main, rthecynic. Feel free to send me prompts or just come and say hi!


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